


Flight

by RedStarFiction



Category: Shameless (US), gallavich - Fandom
Genre: Bottom Mickey Milkovich, Chap 2 NSFW, Domestic Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Gallavich, Ian Gallagher Loves Mickey Milkovich, M/M, Mickey's first flight, Top Ian Gallagher, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-22 11:34:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11966526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedStarFiction/pseuds/RedStarFiction
Summary: Hey guys, so my husband and I flew into Berlin yesterday and the airport was a nightmare. So while Ol sleeps off a bit of a hangover, I took myself out for coffee and imagined Mickey and Ian trying to navigate an airport together :) It's lighthearted and fun, no triggers (except flying) and just our two favourites hanging out and pretending that everything panned out differently in Season 5 and all is good in Gallavich land.Please feel free to share any thoughts or prompts for the next chapter - thanks for reading as always, Hanxx





	1. Chapter 1

“Well this fuckin’ sucks.”

“Can you just stop fussing for two minutes, please?”

Ian shot Mickey a look that he usually reserved for Yevgeny when he was on the verge of a tantrum. Mickey raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes with an expression that clearly said ‘Well you fuckin’ brought me here’.

“Look, the security check is always the worst bit…”

“Yeah, if you’re a god damned terrorist which we’re NOT!”

The last word lifted in a shout at the old black security guard stood by the body scanners. The guard frowned at Mickey but then rolled his eyes and mercifully decided to ignore him.

“Would you stop?”

Ian hissed, jerking Mickey round to face him. Mickey’s cheek distorted as he pushed his tongue into it and Ian sighed and allowed a smile to touch the tight line of his compressed lips.

“What’s the matter? Is it really the wait or are you worried about flying?”

“Course I’m worried about fuckin’ flying! You put a load of assholes in a tin can that is powered on fire and …”

“What?”

Ian laughed and Mickey spread his hands in front of him with a gesture of impatience

“Fuckin’ fire, Ian.”

“They don’t … wait … Why do you think they run on fire?”

“Flames shoot out the back of them when they take off, I’ve seen it on TV. It’s fuckin’ crazy.”

Mickey murmured absently as he peered around the woman in front of him and scowled at someone at the very front of the queue who was rummaging for something in their suitcase, a small pile of clothes and shoes beside them.

“Oh sure, by all means start unpacking your shit here, that oughta speed things up real well.”

“Sir, don’t yell at the other passengers.”

The security guard sounded tired and Ian kind of felt for the guy but Mickey, always happy to spell shit out for people, pointed his passport at him like a gun and snapped

“Then you fuckin’ do it, numbnuts. We all got flights to catch and personally I wouldn’t mind missing mine and goin’ home but pretty sure all these other people want to get fuckin’ movin’.”

The security guard stepped forward angrily, ready for a confrontation and Ian gripped Mickey’s arm hard

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

He breathed, not bothering to look down at his boyfriend. Mickey cleared his throat in a manner that suggested Ian remove his hand immediately but Ian retained his grip and smiled sweetly at the guard

“Sorry, nervous flier. But uh, he does kind of have a point. Think you could maybe get that guy to let someone who’s ready go ahead of him?”

The crowd around them made a low murmur of agreement and the guard, pooched his lower lip out as he considered his options with regard to the two young men before him. It almost certainly wasn’t worth the headache of trying to take on the small one and the bigger one had raised a fairly decent point …

“I’ll see what I can do, but you gotta watch your tone, son.”

Mickey returned the open eyed stare but remained silent much to Ian’s relief.

“Thank you, Sir.”

Ian smiled and watched the guards retreating back for a moment before letting go of his boyfriends arm.

“OK, you have GOT to calm down. You’re going to end up getting frisked or something.”

“I ain’t got nothing to hide. You told me I couldn’t bring shit. Fuckin’ insisted as I recall.”

The accusation in his tone was evident and Ian fought back a smile

“I like having you around and orange is not your colour.”

“Yeah well, it’s fine. We’re goin’ to California not Colombia. Man, the shit I could have brought back if …”

“Shhh.”

Ian made a shushing gesture with his hands and Mickey rolled his eyes impatiently.

“Still say we could have drove there.”

“Well yeah if you wanted to spend weeks on the road not the beach.”

Mickey grinned at that and nodded

“I am lookin’ forward to the beach. Sand between my toes, Hawaiian shirts and watchin’ your ginger ass burn up like a mother fucker.”

“I bought sun-screen. It’s factor fifty.”

Ian sounded rather proud of this and Mickey put an arm around his waist and squeezed briefly

“It could be factor one thousand, firecrotch. Your people just ain’t made for the sun.”

*

Once they finally made it through security, Ian led them down the maze of corridors that marked the way to their boarding gate. Mickey had wanted to stop at the duty free and get a bottle of vodka but Ian had fibbed and told him they really didn’t have time. He hated being dishonest with Mickey but the closer they got to the flight time, the more twitchy his boyfriend was getting and Ian knew that adding hard liquor to his nerves was not going to end well.

“Holy fuck. Those things are huge!”

Mickey pressed his face to the glass wall overlooking the taxiway, his hands splayed against it like a kid. 

“Yeah. Come on.”

“Which one is ours?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is it the blue one?”

“Maybe.”

“It better not but that fuckin’ white one over there. Thing looks old as shit.”

“Nah, that one belongs to Air Italia. Ours is American Airlines”

“Well that thing ain’t makin’ it all the way back to Italy. They’ll have to tow it or tie it to the top of a bigger plane or something”

Ian couldn’t help but laugh as he took a firm grip on Mickey’s collar and gently steered him away from the window.

*

There was another queue to get onto the actual plane and Ian glanced anxiously down at Mickey who was rocking up on the balls of his feet to try to see the front of the line.

“Are you OK?”

“I’m kinda excited actually. Sort of feels like when you’re runnin’ from the cops and you’re scared as shit cause you got a fuck ton of coke strapped to your chest but also you’re lovin’ it cause they’re dumb, fat fucks and you know you got a pretty good chance of out running ‘em. You know? Feels like that.”

By Mickey’s usual standards, that was a monologue worthy of an Oscar. Ian nodded as if he knew exactly what he meant and pressed a kiss to the top of his boyfriends head. The woman in front of them was looking around worriedly, clutching her purse to her side a little more tightly than she had been. Mickey didn’t notice but Ian did and stuck his chin out pugnaciously, giving her his best ‘angelic thug’ smile and put his arm protectively around Mickey’s shoulders.

She blushed and turned back around quickly. Ian kissed Mickey again and squeezed his shoulder, feeling a rush of protective love for his wild, brash and wonderful man. Mickey looked up at him, surprised and then reached up and pulled Ian down for a proper kiss. 

“Maybe this flying thing isn’t so bad, huh?”

He smiled as they broke away. The steward at the front of the line listened to something on her headset and then beckoned the first passenger and opened the line. Boarding had begun.

*

“FUCK! Jesus Christ, Ian. What was that?”

“It’s the engines starting.”

Ian tried to free his hand from the death grip Mickey had on it but the tattooed fingers were clamped tight around his own and refusing to budge. Mickey’s eyes were wide with alarm and his chest was rising and falling in rapid breaths.

“Hey, it’s fine. Look, no one else is worried. We’re fine.”

“All these fuckers must have a death wish. Shit. This sucks. This fuckin’ sucks.”

Mickey tucked his chin onto his chest and pressed his lips tightly together, eyebrows furrowed in a stern frown.

“You want a drink?”

“I want a smoke.”

“You can’t smoke on the plane.”

Mickey’s head shot up and he stared at Ian in open horror

“The fuck I can’t!”

“It’s illegal.”

“So is most of the shit I do.”

Mickey quipped and leant across Ian to catch the sleeve of one of the female stewards walking down the aisle, his most charming smile lighting his face

“Excuse me, miss. Can I get a smoke?”

“No, I’m sorry sir. There is a strict no smoking policy on all flights.”

Mickey’s face dropped and he bit his lip hard

“Shit. OK, you got booze though right?”

“Yes, the drinks cart will come around just as soon as …”

“I’m gonna need something now.”

Mickey interrupted her and she looked down at him sympathetically

“Not a great flyer?”

“No.”

“He’ll be fine. It’s his first time.”

Ian carefully removed Mickey’s grip on the woman and patted the back of his hand reassuringly

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not fuckin’ here. Listen, lady, I don’t wanna be an asshole but if you don’t want me smokin’ you have got to get me a drink and I mean, like, now. Beer, vodka, whisky … anything with a percentage.”

The steward blinked, taken aback and then nodded and held up one finger and winked at him.

“Thank you. Jesus.”

Mickey sat back and closed his eyes.

“Think of the beach, Mick. Think of the ocean!”

Ian smiled hopefully and rubbed Mickey’s leg in encouragement. The reply was characteristically short and informative.

“I’m thinkin’ of drowning you in it for makin’ me do this.”

“Fair enough.”

Ian kissed his cheek and settled back against his seat wondering how Mickey was going to cope with take-off and hoping that the drink would arrive quickly.


	2. Fuckin' Poet.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So we're back in Manchester after an awesome few days in Berlin! I am a little hung over and I wrote this on a very cramped plane seat so please excuse typos - please also don't tell me about them because then I'll have to fix them and I don't want to think about any flights again for a while, not even this adorable Gallavich one! haha!   
> Thank you to everyone who has commented and encouraged. You're all wonderful people :)
> 
> Shamelessly4Shameless over on Tumblr! Please come and say hi if you're on there too! :)
> 
> Han xxx

As the plane began to roll across the tarmac aiming for the runway, Mickey cracked one eye open, glancing out of the little window beside him.

“We goin’?”

“Yeah, but this is the taxiway, it’ll be a little while yet before we take off.”

Ian smiled and eyed the steward who had promised Mickey a drink; she had a beer in each hand and was facing toward them but had been caught by passengers further up the plane and was in deep conversation.

“Right.”

Ian took in the tense set of Mickey’s shoulders and jaw as he slouched low and allowed the hand on his thigh to travel higher, trailing the inseam of his jeans, just firmly enough to make Mickey squirm a little.

“What are you doing now?”

“Thinking up ways of relaxing you.”

Mickey’s upper lip curved in a small smile but his hand covered Ian’s stilling his fingers.

“Go ahead. Give me a hard-on I can’t do shit about, I hear all guys go wild for blue balls.”

Mickey rolled his neck back and forth, the smile never leaving his lips.

“How do you know so much about planes anyway? Taxiway? Who the fuck knows what that is called.”

“I know what a fuss you make about anything new so I read up on it.”

Ian announced with a flourish, pleased with his foresight

“What? I’m fine with new things.”

Mickey answered defensively, brows knitting together.

“You hate new things! You pitched a fit when I changed the brand of orange juice.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you got the shitty kind with all those nasty little bits floating around in it!”

Mickey had made his feelings very clear at the time and still couldn’t quite believe Ian actually liked the stuff.

“What about the new shirts I got you?”

“My old ones still got some wear left.”

“When they ran out of your deodorant so I got you the green label one. Remember that?”

“Smelt like a girls fuckin’ perfume.”

Mickey wrinkled his nose and Ian rolled his eyes

“See! You hate new things.”

He said triumphantly, slapping Mickey’s arm lightly with the back of his hand.

“Maybe you’re right. I hate you acting like a cocky dickbag … oh wait, that’s not fuckin’ new, is it?”

Mickey grinned flashing his white and remarkably perfect teeth at Ian and then held up his hands in mock submission as Ian laughed and mimed elbowing him in the gut.

“Sir, your drink?”

Neither had heard the attendant approach and Mickey turned to her with the smile still on his face, causing a small blush to creep up her neck.

“Thank you very much, Miss. I appreciate it”

He accepted the can gratefully, and held it up in brief toast to her, cracking it open with one practiced flick of his thumb and drained half of it in one swallow.

“No problem. Just so you know, take off is scheduled for about four minutes so if you could ensure you’re strapped in that would be great.”

She flashed another smile at Mickey and sauntered back down the aisle, looking over her shoulder just the once.

“I think she likes you.”

Ian whispered and Mickey peered round him to look down the aisle, amused

“Good taste on her part. Think she’d get me another beer if I offered to bang her in the cockpit?”

“Oohh sure, you think planes run on fire but you know the word ‘cockpit’. Please, be more gay.”

Ian teased and Mickey tongued the corner of his mouth nonchalantly before finishing his beer, middle finger raised to Ian’s nose.

“I know another thing about planes too.”

“Seriously? You a fucking pilot?”

“Ever heard of the Mile High Club?”

Ian bobbed his head and bit his lip flirtatiously a deliberately exaggerated gesture that none the less sent tingles throughout Mickey’s body.

“You want to try that?”

“Why not?”

“Sure, if you like.”

Mickey half stood and peered over the chair in front of them. A woman, already asleep, and her elderly father also asleep had received the first can of beer the steward handed out but it was sat untouched. He leant over and plucked it from the folded down tray before resuming his seat.

“What? I’ll buy him another one if he wakes up and misses it.”

Mickey shrugged at Ian’s disapproving frown and pushed up his shirt sleeves to the elbow as if preparing for business.

“So what do you want to do? This thing is like a fucking sardine can and I don’t normally go in for public displays but I’ve had a couple beers and you’re wearing those black jeans that make your legs look nice… I can probably get it up if you want to blow me.”

“You’re like a poet sometimes. You should write that in my valentine card next year.”

Ian scoffed sarcastically and closed his eyes as if praying for forbearance and Mickey grinned at him, eyebrows raised in mock surprise.

“Think you’re getting fucking valentine’s cards now, huh? The kind with the little bears and hearts and all that other shit?”

“Well … I mean. I hadn’t thought about it but I’ve never had one from my boyfriend before. Might be nice.”

Ian’s slightly haughty tone and the stubborn set of his jaw told Mickey that he clearly had thought about it and probably more than once. Mickey caught his chin between thumb and forefinger tugging it forward and kissing Ian’s lips softly. He often said brash things that made Ian a little upset, normally when the subject matter made him uncomfortable, he wasn’t sure what was wanted of him, or when Ian wanted some open display of affection that made Mickey’s chest feel tight to contemplate.

In this case Mickey reasoned that as long as he could just give Ian the card over a beer or something, it would probably be fine and it wasn’t like it would be fucking hard to find one! Shops were littered with that crap from January, like a pink elephant toy or a glittery flower were ways to prove love. Mickey sighed to himself. People were fucking nuts.

“You remind me a couple days before and I’ll get you one, okay?”

“If I have to remind you it’s not quite as romantic.”

Ian grumbled but Mickey only rolled his eyes

“You gotta learn to recognise a win when you get one, Gallagher. Play your cards right I’ll get you a box of candy too but if there is a caramel in it, that one’s mine.”

All of a sudden, there was an announcement to buckle up and the plane began to roll forward again, gathering speed as the engines roared making the earlier noise seem almost soft in comparison.

“Here we go!”

Ian grinned, minor disappointment forgotten and gripped Mickey’s fingers tightly.

“Ah fuck!”

Mickey pressed himself as far back in the seat as he could get as the plane tipped sharply upwards and the peculiar feeling of pressurised weightlessness engulfed the cabin. Ian had never been in a passenger plane either but what terrified Mickey only exhilarated him and he let out an involuntary whoop of glee at the same moment as Mickey let out a noise that fell somewhere between a swear and a shriek.

“What the Hell was that noise, Mickey?”

Ian cackled to himself, nudging his boyfriend in the ribs.

“Shut the fuck up, Gallagher!”

The tone of Mickey’s voice was one that made most people think twice but Ian only laughed again and kissed his cheek, delighting in the slight rasp of stubble against his lips.

The plane banked sharply left, and a protective arm flung across Ian’s middle. He glanced down in surprise at the hand gripping his chest, pressing him backwards into the safety of his seat and as the plane levelled out, he looked across at Mickey, beaming from ear to ear.

“The fuck are you smiling at right now?”

“You protecting me from … I don’t even know what.”

Ian leant over the divide ignoring the scowl Mickey gave him.

“Look how beautiful it is, Mick! Wave goodbye to Chicago.”

Ian waved at the window and Mickey half-turned, flicking his gaze upwards before jumping like a startled cat.

“Jesus fucking Christ!”

Ian had thought Mickey was pale before but now his colour dropped to a sort of ashy grey as the city fell away beneath them. Mickey squeezed his eyes shut for a second and then forced them open to fix Ian with a look that was caught between fury and pleading.

“Ian, swap places with me.”

“What? No! You’ll miss all the …”

“Don’t give a shit what I’ll miss. Swap with me now.”

Mickey interrupted with an impatient hand gesture. His mouth was compressed tightly, blue eyes fixed rigidly on a spot somewhere above Ian’s shoulder on the fake leather headrest. He could feel sweat slicking down his back and the armpits of his shirt were heavy with it. He dimly recognised the feeling as panic but with nowhere to run to, Mickey simply tried to concentrate on not pissing himself or vomiting.

“C’mon, in a minute there will be clouds and …”

“Ian, if you don’t shut the fuck up and move your ass I am going to ram your head out that window and you and the fucking clouds can get acquainted real well.”

“OK! Jesus.”

Ian unbuckled his seat belt and stood, awkwardly trying to shuffle around Mickey, who despite desperately wanting to move, seemed unable to make his limbs cooperate and was half-dragging himself across the chair arm.

“Sir! Sir, you need to sit down!”

Ian waved an apologetic hand at the flight attendant and nudged Mickey

“Well? Move if you’re moving.”

“Fuckin’ trying, asshole!”

With a monumental effort Mickey managed to force his legs into action and dumped himself in Ian’s chair before closing his eyes tightly, his chin tucked onto his chest. The last time he felt this was just before coming out to the entirety of the Alibi at Yevgeny’s christening. He’s survived that and he would most likely survive this, but at that moment, Mickey really didn’t care if he did not.

“It’s OK. Hey, it’s fine. I’m right here.”

Ian’s annoyance faded as quickly as it had arisen and he gently smoothed Mickey’s hair back.

“Look at me, c’mon, open your eyes, Mick.”

Mickey did as Ian asked and let the breath he had been holding out very slowly through his nose. Ian held his gaze earnestly until Mickey came back to himself and was able to breathe normally again.

“Shit. Thought I was gonna pass out.”

“You OK now?”

Mickey shrugged irritably, the adrenaline had left him feeling shaky and he couldn’t ever remember wanting a cigarette more badly in his life. Ian bit the inside of his lip and looked out of the window. He felt a little guilty for making Mickey take the flight. He’d known it wasn’t going to be the happiest experience of Mickey’s life, the crowds, the proximity to police and the lack of space, but he hadn’t thought he would find it this bad.

“I’m sorry. I guess I thought you’d like to see the world from up here. I shouldn’t have booked you the window seat.”

“Maybe once I’m used to it … I don’t know. Ian, if you want me to look at the fuckin’ clouds I’ll try it but just … not yet, okay? Let me get my fuckin’ heart rate down for a minute.”

“Sure. You want me to close the blind?”

“No! Just cause I hate something doesn’t mean you can’t like it. You want to look at the clouds, fuckin look at them.”

“Yeah but if it makes you feel sick…”

“Lot of things you like make me feel sick. Like that gross fuckin’ orange juice and your brother.”

Ian grinned despite himself and saw Mickey watching him out of one half-squinting eye, still not completely able to look but trying to, really fucking trying.

Ian watched as Mickey tried gather himself, thumbing his lip in that familiar gesture that Ian loved so much. If it were Ian, Mickey would know to hold him, murmur something comforting maybe but Mickey was not a softly, softly person he needed something sharper, colder. When Mickey needed to cling to something, he reached for iron railings not feather pillows.

“So did you actually piss yourself?”

Ian asked, shrugging one shoulder

“No. Asshole. I don’t think so anyway.”

Mickey half smiled and Ian pressed on

“Good, cause you know I’ll still do nasty things with your dick but I need a bit of prior warning if it’s a mess down there.”

“Fuck off!”

Mickey laughed, a genuine laugh that reached all the way to his eyes, chasing away the last of the fear.

“Hang on … Shit. I crushed it a bit …”

Mickey reached into his shirt pocket and produced a small packet of cookies

“Sorry they’re broken. You gotta eat these it’s been over an hour since you took your meds.”

Ian took the crumpled foil packet and felt his eyes well up a little.

“You can remember my schedule in the middle of a panic attack?”

“What? Fuck you. I didn’t have a fuckin’ panic attack, just … startled me, the damn noise and the … ah … that.”

Mickey flapped his hand at the window without looking directly at it, his nose lifted in a dismissive sneer.

“Thank you.”

Ian ignored the harsh tone of his voice and ran Mickey’s hair lightly through his fingers, toying with the lengths until Mickey pulled away slightly to peer around the other passengers, most of whom were plugged into headphones or settling down for a nap.

“Of course, I got your back, man. Sickness, health all that.”

Mickey shrugged and Ian busied himself with the packet. Affection was one thing, but if Mickey saw him getting teary eyed in public over a cookie? No. That was not the Milkovich way and Mickey would not be impressed.

“This it now? It’ll be just quiet like this?”

“Should be, I think if we hit a rough patch they let us know and we just buckle in again.”

“Alright. Let me look at you.”

Ian quirked an eyebrow in question but obligingly turned to face Mickey properly, licking crumbs from the pad of his thumb.

“Mmm. Damn Gallagher. Yeah, okay. I’m ready.”

“What are … Oh Jesus!”

Ian laughed down at his crotch frowning

“Well don’t fucking laugh at it.”

Mickey snapped, eyeing Ian incredulously and putting a hand self-consciously over his crotch.

“I can’t just get you off right here! They’d have police waiting at the gates!”

“Why? People do it on the bus all the time. This is just a bus with wings.”

Ian chose to ignore that comment, refraining from asking Mickey what damn busses he had been taking.

“Meet me in the bathroom.”

“Ian …”

Mickey tried to catch Ian’s sleeve to tell him he would really, really prefer not trying to walk down the juddering body of the plane. Stupid as he knew it was, he kind of worried that his weight would manage to tip the thing into a nose dive, but Ian dodged his hand, winked at him and strutted up the aisle, deliberately pausing to stretch his hands over his head, clenching his butt and working the muscles in his back. Mickey muttered a curse low under his breath and shakily unbuckled his seatbelt.

*

Ian opened the door immediately when Mickey knocked and dragged him in. With two of them in the cramped little space, it felt impossibly tight but if anything it just made Ian want it more. He looked down at Mickey and shook his head

“God. You know how much I want you right now?”

Ian whispered as he gently took hold of his lover’s chin as he bowed his head to kiss him. Mickey pressed his body instinctively against Ian’s and felt the length of him pressing against his belly.

“I can feel how much. You got about nine and a half inches of want just begging for me.”

Mickey pitched his voice low to match Ian’s and for a second they just looked at each other, then Ian kissed him again and smiled

“We’ll have to hurry. Straddle the toilet and bend over.”

“Now who’s writing fuckin’ valentine’s poems?”

Mickey joked but did as Ian said without argument, dropping his jeans as Ian took a firm grip on the back of his neck that made Mickey’s skin feel electric. Ian nudged Mickey’s ankles a little further apart with his foot and gently stroked the soft, pale curve of his ass before shifting his grip to a much stronger hold on his hip.

Ian’s own ass bumped the door with the first thrust and it rattled loudly. For a horrible moment, he thought he was going to lose it and start laughing but Mickey clenched around him and glanced back over his shoulder, eyebrows lifted in impatient question.

Ian shook his head, fought down the panicked laugher and began to find his rhythm. With Mickey it never took more than a few strokes to find it; to begin to move as one, it was a deeper connection than just the physical. Ian hadn’t ever discussed it with him because he suspected it would only make Mickey feel uncomfortable, but he was quite sure that it was the difference between sex and two souls actually entwined, coming together in an act of love. One day he would broach the subject with Mickey he resolved, maybe even one day soon.

Ian noticed tiny beads of sweat prickling the skin on Mickey’s lower back, bit the inside of his lip hard enough to bruise, and began to move his hips faster, narrow and jerky pulses in the tight confines of the bathroom. Ian laid his hand flat on the ceiling, chilling it against the plastic tile before reaching for Mickey’s cock and wrapping his fingers tightly around him. The contrast of heat and cold, hard and soft, elicited a low groan from Mickey, ripping it from his throat, the force of his orgasm pitching him forward so that only his hands flat against the wall stopped him crumbling to the floor. Ian saw all of that and in the second before his own orgasm floods his mind with light and joy, he managed to breathe the words ‘I love you.’


End file.
